The Heart of it All
by Helena Heartbeat
Summary: After GS:TLA folded, Jenna left the gang to start her own life. Years later, after living under the radar in Champa, she is found by none other than Alex, who is supposed to be dead. He persuades her to join him in his journey back to where it all began.
1. Jenna, Found

This fanfic is set 3 years after everything in TLA unfolded. I haven't played the game in ages, so bear with me if I'm just a little rusty. ;)

On with the show.

It was summertime in Champa. The air was humid and thick with the scent of the nearby sea. Champa's residents took the drastic temperature change in stride, hardly noticing the extra heat as they went about their daily lives.

Being a Fire Adept, Jenna usually had no aversion to heat of any kind; be it a fire, molten lava, hot air, anything that she could manipulate with her powers. But to be honest, she hated the hot weather. When there was cold weather, she could use her power to warm herself and her friends. She could use her powers, but in this heat, she felt useless. She hated how she was always sticky and uncomfortable, and she especially hated how it was unbearable to train in 103 degree heat for fear of a heat stroke or fainting…

The thought of fainting made her toes curl. She was never delicate or fragile like Sheba, never angelic and pure like Mia, never sturdy or simple like Felix or Isaac. She was really most like Garet—practically allergic to subtlety, quick-tempered, and brutally honest. She was the first to really master her firepower, despite it being the most unstable of all the elements. She had the most talent out of them all.

But despite this truth, for it wasn't self-centeredness, she still adored her comrades. Even though Sheba was the token girly-girl, she and Jenna formed a friendship based solely on boys and gossip. Jenna was raised a tomboy but the feminine qualities were becoming harder and harder to resist as she grew older.

With Felix, she developed a bond that didn't rely solely on talking. Instead they trusted each other in the way that only siblings can trust, and shaped a mutual, silent understanding through almost a year of (sometimes uncomfortably) close adventuring.

She didn't trust Piers quite so quickly or steadfastly at first. Piers joined their group with a bang, arriving in a swirl of confusion and mistrust. But over time and through an infinite amount of battling enormous creatures, Piers saved her skin life more than once. To him she owed a special confidence—one that comes with bringing someone back from the brink of death. She knew that it took some serious affection for someone to do that. No, she didn't know what it meant.

Garet and Isaac, her oldest friends from Vale, needed no explaining. Isaac was her first crush; Garet, her first best friend. They loved her and she loved them, no matter what. They knew that blood was thicker than water, and they understood. She owed them everything.

Mia was the black sheep in Jenna's universe; she entered quietly and left just as abruptly. She and Jenna never had an opportunity to bond, and to be honest, Jenna wasn't heartbroken over it. To her, she felt that Mia had the least amount of personality in the group. She wondered why Garet ever became interested in her, but then again, it wasn't any of her business.

At this point in thought Jenna was at the pier, hoping to find some sea mist to cool her down. Her hair was entirely up off her neck, her bangs held up in clips. She wore the loosest, lightest clothing she had and no shoes. It didn't help much.

She sat at the edge of the pier, dangling her feet in the water, and leaned back until she was lying on the dock. The sun beat down mercilessly and she shut her eyes, hoping to shut out the excessive sunlight as well. It didn't work, and so she flung her sticky arm over her eyes and sighed.

"Are you okay, miss?" a voice asked a few minutes later.

"I'll be fine once this damned weather goes away," she grumbled from under her arm.

"You don't like the heat?" the voice said.

"No, not at all," she replied. "I prefer it sunny and nice out, with a breeze. I like being able to let my hair down, to wear normal clothing, and in this, I can't do that without overheating myself."

"That's too bad; I think you'd look nice with your hair down."

At that point the voice began to seem familiar. Jenna moved her arm slightly and squinted up at the face peering down at her.

"Isaac!" she shrieked and jumped up. "I'd give you a hug, but I think I'd gross you out," she said, then laughed. "You need a haircut, don't you? You're looking like Felix now."

Isaac rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, pushing his new orange ponytail behind his shoulders. "Do you think I could stay at your place?" he asked. "I'm not staying long, and I've got only a little bit of equipment."

"Of course," Jenna said immediately and began walking. "So tell me, what's the equipment for, anyways?"

"You can't laugh."

"…I promise."

"Garet and Mia sort of opened a summer camp in Vale," he said awkwardly. "He made me be his second-in-command, sort of."

Jenna snickered. "What an idiot," she said fondly.

"Anyways, I got sidetracked. I remembered that you lived somewhere up here and so I asked Garet if I could take a few days to myself, considering it's my summer too, and then I walked along the coast looking for the town where you lived."

Were it anyone else, it would sound like a confession of love. But Jenna brushed it off and said, "How long were you looking?"

"Only a week and a half. I didn't stop that far away from here, and I took my time looking around. Before this heat wave, it was actually kinda nice out. But now it's almost like suicide."

"Tell me about it," Jenna growled. "I thought I was used to heat; damn, I thought I _liked_ heat. _This_ is not the heat that I like or am used to."

Isaac smiled as they took the steps two at a time. "How big is your house?"

"God, it's monstrous!" Jenna laughed and unlocked the front door.

It wasn't a mansion, but it definitely was a nice house—three floors, five bedrooms, a bathroom on each floor, a kitchen, a living room, basement, attic, and so on: she had it all. It was a little lonely, though, and she had rented it out in the past, but there weren't many people who would want to live under the patronage of a 20-year-old.

Isaac set himself up in a bedroom on the second floor and, when he was done, he came down to join Jenna in the living room.

"When are you going to ask me how everyone is?" he asked quietly.

"I was waiting for you to tell me," she said stiffly. "It's hypocritical of me to ask, anyways, since I was the one who left."

He shrugged. "They would want to know how you were, even though you left," he said baldly.

"And so? How are they?"

"Sheba and Ivan have opened an academy in Kalay; they're doing pretty well. I see that look in your eye, Jenna; they're more like siblings than anything, so don't go getting all gooey on me. Garet and Mia are together, yeah, and they have their silly summer camp; I'm with them most of the time anyways. I haven't found anyone, before you ask," he said quickly, blushing.

Jenna grinned. "You know me so well," she said, teasing.

"Piers is back in Lemuria, and we haven't really heard much from him, aside that he's now one of the King's advisors," Isaac continued on. "Oh, and he's planning on coming back within the year. We don't know when or where, but we're hoping it's in time for the reunion—"

"What reunion?" Jenna asked sharply.

Now Isaac looked really uncomfortable. "It was Mia and Garet's idea," he confessed. "They thought it would be good for all of us to regroup, sort of, and wander around Weyard. Like old times, you know? I'm sure there are more Djinn, summons, creatures to find…" he trailed off.

Jenna ignored what Isaac just said and instead asked, "When did they come up with this idea?" she interrogated. "Where are we supposed to meet? Do they just expect me to drop everything and run to them like a dog? I have my own life going on, and they want me to take a break and just put on some armor and go save the world again?"

Isaac raised his eyebrows. "No one expects you to do anything, Jenna," he pointed out. "After all, you're the one who left first. They expect you to not come, actually."

"Then they won't be disappointed," Jenna snapped. "I have no interest in seeing them, not after what went down. Not after what we all did to my—" She stopped abruptly and was silent.

"No one knew the Dragon would end up being your parents," Isaac said gently. "That was no one's fault."

Jenna's fists balled up in her lap. "Shut up, Isaac," she said through gritted teeth. "I know."

Isaac sat back in his seat and continued on, "Don't you want to see Felix? Or Garet? Don't you miss your family?"

Jenna said nothing as her knuckles went white.

"I know there's no lost love between you and Mia, but she does miss you. She always respected you, you know. Sheba, too. You were a role-model, Jenna, you still are. We know it wasn't easy to leave us, and we forgive you."

This was progressing into uncharted territory, and it was making Jenna uneasy.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jenna said stubbornly. "There was nothing to it. I had to choose between staying safe with you guys and putting myself out there, and you know me," she said bitterly, "I was never particularly interested in staying safe."

"Our own little wild child," Isaac said, smiling.

"Right," she replied tightly. "Right."

There was a silence, long and awkward.

Jenna then decided to ask Isaac something that had been troubling her for some time.

"Did Piers mention anything other than becoming an advisor to the king?" she asked carefully.

Isaac replied slowly, "I have the letter with me if you want to read it."

Jenna nodded, also slowly. For some reason her pulse was quickening, her hands becoming clammy.

But then she came to her senses. The heat was unbearable, making her heart race and her skin to become sticky—why should her hands be any exception?

Isaac pulled the letter out of his backpack and handed it to her, "We got this in Vale about a month ago. It's really short, but it _is_ from him."

"_Dear Felix and Ivan_," it began,

"_I write to you from Lemuria, which suffice to say hasn't changed at all since we ventured there. I read your letter and, yes, I am very interested in a reunion. In fact, I was thinking of taking a break from my duties as a king's advisor—yes, you read that correctly—and taking a vacation. I am curious to see how everyone is._

"_Please, tell me of Jenna. Her departure was so abrupt and so sudden I scarcely had time to think before she was gone. Is she safe and content where she is—and where, indeed, is she?_

"_There is not much more to say, Felix and Isaac. I treasure you as friends, with which I have had little experience, and I hope you understand my lack of interesting things to write about. Perhaps when we have our reunion there will be more to speak of._

"_Sincerely, Piers_"

Jenna returned the letter to Isaac, who tucked it back into his pocket. He was looking at her strangely, and Jenna flushed despite herself.

She didn't like it.

"What are you looking at?" she growled at Isaac, studying her intently.

"Piers expressed some serious interest in your whereabouts," he said simply. "I can't believe I had forgotten to mention."

"Me neither," Jenna said dryly. "It's exactly the kind of thing you just, _poof_!—forget."

"What do you think?" Isaac asked, brushing her snide comment aside.

"I think you're looking too much into it," Jenna replied acerbically. "What about you? Any lady love for you?" she sneered, now in a bad mood.

"No," he said and was quiet.

"That's it?" she reiterated.

"Yeah."

"How boring."

"Look, I came here to know how you were doing, not for you to interrogate me. Tell me what you're doing."

"I'm helping a woman by the name of Mrs. Poccoui around the inn. She has me clean and stuff, and sometimes I make food. She's teaching me to cook," Jenna said, with a tiny ray of pride in her voice.

Isaac was puzzled—the thought of Jenna in an apron, cradling a bowl in one arm and holding a large spoon in the other, did not compute.

He nodded as if interested and asked, "What else? Make any friends?"

"Not really," Jenna said; the ray of pride was then gone. "They can tell that I'm—different. They still don't really trust me."

"Haven't you lived here for a few years?"

"No, only one and a half. I kinda wandered around for a bit before settling down here. Believe it or not it was actually beautiful the second time I visited."

"Does Mrs. Poke-oo-wee trust you? Does she like you?"

"She likes me when I fix her oven. She trusts me when I teach her kids some basic defense. Other than that, I like to think she respects me."

Isaac nodded and seemed to be at a loss for words. "Are you going to show me around town now?"

---v---v---v---v---v---

Jenna brought Isaac down to the docks two weeks later. His ship had arrived and was in port, waiting to be boarded by the famous Isaac of Vale. She helped him set his luggage down on deck and together they walked back to the pier.

"It's been a nice visit," Isaac said politely. "You were always my favorite friend, Jenna, no matter that you think." He offered her a boyish smile as he waited for her reply.

She smacked him on the arm. "You know I'm not one for sentiments," she began, "so I'll just give you a hug and say bye."

She leaned over and hugged him, patting him on the back. Moments later she let go and held him at arm's length. "You really have grown," she remarked. "You're not a little boy anymore."

"And you're definitely not a little girl," Isaac said and laughed in her face.

Jenna pushed him onto the boat and removed the plank. She laughed right back at him as he frantically gestured for his hat, which was dangling from her finger in mockery. She tossed the hat toward him and laughed harder when it hit the water and sunk below the surface.

Not ten minutes later, Isaac's boat was gone and Jenna felt hollow, false—as if their time together was forced and fake.

It kinda was.

She turned and walked back to dry land, but before her feet touched the hard-packed ground, she heard a squelch behind her.

She turned, only just able to see the tendril of water sink back to the undulating surface. There was a puddle at the edge of the dock, and in that puddle was Isaac's hat.

Jenna stared at the puddle, not quite sure what to think. Was it some water sprite, returning the unwanted hat? Was it a practical joke from the local urchins, using some newfound Adept tricks?

She turned back, resolving to ignore it. It wasn't as if that kind of thing was unheard of in Weyard. And she certainly didn't want Isaac's soggy hat.

---v---v---v---v---v---

That was the first chapter. Yes, I know, not a whole lot about Piers or Alex in any of it, but rest assured it will come. I have plans for this fic, oh yes I do, and just you wait. ;)

~:Helena Heartbeat

[REVIEW PLZ!!!1!]


	2. Piers, Isolated

Thank you to those who reviews. Please bestow your kindness on me again. :)

I'm going to alternate POVs in this fanfic, something I've been doing for a while. Unlike before, though, it's going to be systematic—not randomly switching from person to person like I've done previously. From here on in, every chapter is supposed to switch POVs unless absolutely necessary.

On with the show.

* * *

Summertime in Lemuria really wasn't that different from summertime in Champa. But then again, seasons didn't vary much in the middle of the ocean.

Piers was down at the water's edge. He had been there since late morning—it was now early evening.

Anyone looking down at the lapping edge of the rocks would see a man floating in the water, blue hair and limbs splayed out around him. He floated as if dead, as if he were a piece of wreckage from a foolish fisherman's boat. But anyone that was already on the island, any Lemurian citizen, knew that he was scrying. They would know that it would be best to not disturb him.

Piers' eyes were closed and he breathed easily, as if the water around him were no more than the air he was so used to. It had been ages since he had to scry, so he had to duly prepare and study the methods. To be honest, he hadn't been submerged in water for so long in a while.

But he had to say that it was worth it.

---v---v---v---v---v---

His sight was extended to a good-sized fishing town called Champa.

When he explained the destination for scrying to the Librarian days earlier, the well-groomed old man looked at him quizzically and inquired as to why he wanted to look onto such an irrelevant little town.

Piers had replied, "An old friend lives there now. I wish to know how she is, seeing as her family will tell me nothing."

The old man had raised both eyebrows and a small smile appeared on his wrinkled face. He set down the small stack of books he was carrying and pulled out no more than five volumes for Piers to read. He had outlined the chapters most vital and when he was done and Piers was studying the pages intently, he said, "Is this a friend you saved the world with?"

Piers looked up, pained, and the Librarian revised his question. "Oh, I apologize—I know you don't like anyone using those terms," he said hurriedly. "I meant to ask, is she one of the people you traveled with?"

Piers nodded and looked back to his book, though he did not read the words. "Anyone looking at the pair of us would think us to be the last people in Weyard to be friends, yet I felt the closest to her out of them all. They tried numerous times to _lump_ me with the other Water Adept, but she didn't interest me." He looked up and laughed, sheepish. "I don't know why I'm telling you this."

"Because this is not the kind of thing you keep to yourself," the Librarian said. "Love is a wonderful thing, a thing that needs to be shared and not hidden—"

Piers looked up sharply. "I'm not in love with her," he said, suddenly irritated.

The Librarian smiled meekly. "It seems to me you are."

"You know nothing," Piers snapped and stood up. "I wandered the world with her, I saved her life so many times, and I got to know her as no one else ever would. I saved the world with her, and then… I killed her parents. Love has nothing to do with this—only obligation. I have a duty to her now. It's fortunate that I am fond of her; if I had to serve someone I disliked, life would be very long indeed."

The Librarian had shaken his head. "Piers, Advisor to the King and Savior of Lemuria, you have much to learn." He had taken Piers' books and checked them out, replacing them on the table when he was done. Then he disappeared into the rows of shelves and was gone.

---v---v---v---v---v---

Now, floating freely, Piers' brow knotted in thought. What did that Librarian mean? Did he imply that he was unenlightened? Piers saved the world, saved Lemuria, and the old man had the nerve to tell him that he hadn't learned anything?

But what of love? What of women? A tiny voice asked him this, one that resembled the Librarian's. What did he truly know about love and all the wonders it brought to a man?

With a scowl on his face, Piers answered himself—he knew nothing.

Suddenly a new image blossomed in his mind. He knew this couldn't be his imagination; there was too much detail, the image itself was too vivid to be conjured up out of nowhere. He had never visited Champa, but if he would in the future, he knew that this image would represent it perfectly.

As if he were seeing through the eyes of a person, the image moved. He found himself floating up stairs—he didn't feel footsteps. He was passing through people in their loose-fitting clothing, people with no shoes on—he didn't feel their skin or flesh. He saw a marketplace, with vendors fanning themselves off endlessly while trying to haggle with buyers. He saw a dock, with children swimming and playing in the shallow water. He saw neat rows of not-so-neat houses up at the top of the large hill where Champa was situated. He looked back down on the village, the irresistible town that was Champa.

Anyone looking up at Piers from beneath him, with the rays of sun fanning around his head like a halo, would see a smile cross his face. But anyone looking up at him could not, would not, should not know what made him smile.

He blinked, and was in someone's house. But judging by the numerous varying artifacts scattered around the room, ones that came from all four corners of the world, it couldn't be just anyone's house—it was Jenna's.

He didn't really know what to do with himself at that point. Everything that had happened up to that point just happened; he didn't need to wait for it. It didn't seem like Jenna was at home.

Home—did this really qualify as her home yet? Piers didn't know how long she lived here, but he knew that it was for at least a year. This house was lived-in, had been for some time, and there wasn't the new-house smell. She had brought all her enchanted equipment and set them up around the house, posing them as art pieces and artifacts when in reality they were extremely powerful weapons and armors.

His eye caught her old staff, the one he first saw her with. He chuckled inwardly—what a fledgling group they were at that point! He remembered like it was yesterday, seeing a group of disgruntled children trying to save him, poorly equipped and naïve. Little did he know that they would save the world and him with it.

The door opened and Piers turned around, fully expecting to see her—Jenna, the girl he admired so, so much for so, so long.

But the young woman who shut the door behind her and leaned against it with a long sigh was not Jenna. Her hair was the same, her skin was the same, her way of walking was the same. Her face was the same; her fierce, beautiful face hadn't changed at all aside from losing the adolescent fluff.

When she opened her eyes, however, Piers could see the strain. The look in her eyes hadn't changed, not at all—still brightly curious and judgmental at the same time—but the tiny wrinkles underneath, or the transient worry lines on her forehead, or the lines that come from frowning too much between her brows, told a different story.

She rubbed her face, squeezed the bridge of her nose, and got up again. She stretched and rubbed the back of her neck. She left her sandals at the door and went up the stairs to her bedroom.

Piers followed. He had no right to, but this she frightened him.

When he saw into her room, her shirt was already off—breast band on—and her back was to him. He could see the strain on her shoulders with his healer's eyes; she was used to combat and battle and hard physical work, so why was a little domestic work putting her through such pain?

She sat down on the edge of her bed and rubbed her hand over the sheets, probably thankful for the coolness. She lay back, feet still touching the ground, and looked up at the ceiling. She sighed again and closed her eyes.

Piers moved closer to the bed and examined her again, refusing to let the adrenaline get the better of him. If he had hands they would be trembling in anticipation for something he had no existing knowledge of, something that was instinctual and primal. Something that scared him.

He swallowed and trained his eyes on her face. He reached out a nonexistent hand to brush her cheek, intent upon figuring out what was ailing her so much. It would be best to achieve that through contact.

Instead, her eyes opened and she looked up at him. She did not blink or cry out—she just looked.

She looked into him, he felt, right into his very essence. She sorted through it, this mysterious thing called _soul_, and withdrew. He caught a glimpse of something, whether it was recognition or annoyance or something else, before she looked away. It seemed like she never saw him after all.

His heart felt like it was breaking, but that didn't stop it from leaping up to his throat. He opened his mouth to say her name, to say something, anything, but instead, water flooded his mouth and raced into his lungs.

Choking and spluttering, the vision abruptly ended. Piers was sinking, but not before he remembered who he was and swum back to shore.

He pulled himself, coughing, out of the water. He pulled all the water away from him and began climbing up the rocks, throat sore and throbbing.

---v---v---v---v---v---

The walk back to his house was painful at best. Scrying took a lot out of him, and he was feeling the lack of energy in every agonizing step. He passed the time with thoughts of Jenna: she would help him, wrap an arm around his wait, and help him walk. She would walk him to his door, sit him down, and bustle about, making dinner. Then she would sit on his lap and feed him, spoonful by spoonful, until the food was gone. Then she would take him up to bed and pull off his bandages—you know, from his large battle wounds—and ask him to teach her some healing spells. He would take her hands and lend her what little energy he had left; his wound would be healed, he would sleep blissfully, and she would be by his side.

He opened his front door and was greeted by dark emptiness. The house, vacant and cold, had no one in it but himself. He didn't even have a cat.

He trudged to bed, dragging his feet as he went. Drowsy with exhaustion, he slumped to the cold sheets and felt his cheek touch his pillow. Then he slept.

---v---v---v---v---v---

Piers did not dream that night.

---v---v---v---v---v---

The King of Lemuria was sitting in his study when Piers came to the castle. The Water Adept entered the room and bowed as the King looked up, offering his apologies for being late. The King waved his hand, brushing his statements away, and looked down at the letter on his desk.

"It says here," he said, furrowing his brow, "that your friend Felix wishes to pull you out of my service temporarily to attend a reunion."

If Piers didn't know any better, he would have thought the King to be angry, or irritated at the very least.

Piers said nothing.

The King looked up and folded his hands. "It's not like I can refuse anything he asks, anyways," the King said, mostly to himself. "The boy did save the world, after all."

Piers felt a flash of annoyance but remained silent.

"You want to see your friends, don't you?" the King asked.

Piers nodded briefly, hands clasped behind his back.

The King pulled out a piece of paper and a quill and began to write. "I'll tell Felix that he may expect you within the month; you will meet him in Vale before the solstice. He says that his sister—Jenna?—is along the coast somewhere, and he would be extremely obligated to you if you convinced her to come to the reunion."

Piers didn't have the idiocy to say that Felix was already extremely obligated to him after all the times Piers saved his hide in battle.

The King wrote on. "He says that Sheba and Ivan have already arrived from Kalay, and that Mia and Garet are traveling as we speak. Isaac will reach them in a matter of days. The only two missing are now you and his sister."

Piers opened his mouth to speak at last. "Sir, I personally think that Jenna would not take kindly to being persuaded to leave her home and visit her old friends. She parted on bad terms with them, and this reunion, I think, is a very bad idea. It might be innocent in motive, but it would not be very beneficial to Jenna. Or myself, to be honest."

The King paused in his scribbling and looked up. "Do you wish to remain in Lemuria, exiled and isolated from your friends?" he asked, not quite understanding.

Piers shook his head. "No, that isn't it. I would like to go, but not if they're going to try to convince me to stay with them and save the world again. I have a life here now, and I wouldn't appreciate if they tried to get me to leave that behind. Jenna has moved on as well, and this nostalgia won't conjure up any lost love between her and the murderers of her parents."

"So that's what this comes down to—the death of her parents. She does know that no one knew the Doom Dragon was anything other than a rampaging creature, correct?"

"I believe she does, but she prefers to blame her friends. If she were to come to terms with the fact that she helped to kill her own parents, she would hurt herself in some way or another. She should not have to accept that she killed her own parents by accident—no one should have to do that."

"I quite agree, Piers, but this blaming on her friends? That is a little childish."

"Sir, no offense intended, but if you had to band against a creature like the Doom Dragon and kill it, and then find out that you helped killed your queen, I don't think you'd be so willing to take responsibility."

The King looked down at his letter and mulled it over, a sad sheen coming over his face. "I think I agree, then," he said. "I wouldn't want to believe it either."

Piers bowed. "Please write to Felix and say that I will come, and I will try to persuade Jenna, but I cannot promise anything. Jenna is her own person and she will make her own decisions."

The King nodded and pulled out another parchment, throwing the first away. "I think you should prepare to leave, Piers," he said to Piers' retreating back. "I think you should leave sooner than the end of the month."

"May I ask why, sir?"

"It will probably take some time to coax the girl to come with you. She doesn't seem to be the trusting type to me."

"No, sir, not at all. But that is part of her charm."

The King looked up, surprised to hear such gentleness in his advisor's voice. But Piers was gone and he was left to his letter.

---v---v---v---v---

Thank you for reading so far. Thank you, thank you, thank you for reviewing before (if you did). And five thank yous if you review again. :)

This chapter is a little bit shorter than the previous—sorry, so sorry—and a little more… rambly. Bear with me; this story is going somewhere.

~:Helena Heartbeat

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	3. Alex, Shattered

To be honest, I didn't finish GS: TLA all the way through. Since I'm not really sure what happened after the Doom Dragon died, I'm just going to make some crap up. :)

On with the show.

---v---v---v---v---v---

Alex was, in fact, not dead.

His body was bloody and soaked to the skin with his clothing in tatters, but he was alive. Mostly.

Rather, he was in a half-and-half state. While his body healed itself rapidly, taking minerals and nutrients from the water he was submerged in, his mind also took advantage of the watery blanket and he began to scry. The Lemurians taught him the tricks he needed, after years of tutelage and scholarships on the godforsaken island. Once he obtained the skills, he abruptly left without so much as a thank-you note.

His mind was warped with thoughts of vengeance, retribution and bloodlust. He knew Felix was weak, both emotionally and mentally, and he knew that that damned Earth Adept would sooner or later stab him in the back. And he did, but earlier than he expected and with more spite and tact than he thought possible.

---v---v---v---v---v---

At the top of Mount Aleph, prior to Alex's "death," Felix did not allow the entire band of Adepts to take on Alex. Alex remembered that he was astonished that Felix himself did not challenge him. Instead, Felix sent up Jenna. Alone.

Alex could remember the look on her face when she first caught sight of him. She was maybe twenty feet away, with her hair in her face, and her arms limp at her sides. In her hand was her trademark staff, almost dragging on the ground. When the wind blew her hair away, Alex saw how tired she was, how exhausted and sad she looked, and he felt something small break inside of him.

She took a few steps closer before stopping. "What have you done, Alex?" she asked. There was no distinguishing intonation; just the hollow voice of a young woman who had been pushed over the limit one time too many.

After that first tiny little rip came many more. His heart felt cold and heavy, and his stomach was tingling. Suddenly such unbearable hatred overcame him, and he wanted nothing more than to rip Felix apart, limb from limb, for putting both Alex and Jenna in this situation.

Of course Felix would send her up—Jenna—Alex's greatest weakness. Of course Felix would notice something like that; silent, observant, infuriating Felix. Though they had few interactions, every time Alex saw Jenna he felt the warmth flow through his veins again, melting the ice that had accumulated there over time.

Of course Felix saw. In the face of such disarming perfection, how could anyone expect Alex to notice the Earth Adept?

Jenna was waiting for Alex's response still.

"I… I tried to destroy your brother," Alex said in a strange voice.

"Why?"

"Because he… he tried to stop me."

"Stop you from doing what?"

"From ruling the world." Alex searched her face for any sign of pain, pity, or anything otherwise, but nothing appeared there.

Jenna nodded and looked down at her feet, as if she understood. "I don't know why he told me to come up here," she said sadly. "You could crush me in a second if I tried anything."

"You know I wouldn't," Alex replied.

Jenna looked up, weary and sad. "But why, Alex? Why wouldn't you hurt me when my brother and I have tried to stop—even kill—you so many times?"

"You are not your brother, Jenna," Alex said, frustration lacing his words. He hated that she compared herself to Felix, or even mentioned him in the same sentence as herself—they were _nothing_ alike.

"I know that," she said. "But I want to know why you won't hurt me. I have done nothing but hurt _you_."

He couldn't really argue with that.

Every single time they had spoken previously, he could practically taste the animosity in the air around her. She looked on him with distrust and anger, and every time he saw that look on her face, it killed him. He played it off like he was charming and blasé, and she fell for it. She thought him indifferent to her.

Was it possible for one person to be so completely, utterly _wrong_ about another?

"Answer me!" she snapped, interrupting his thoughts.

"I would never hurt you, Jenna, because you are more important to me than I think you know," he said, struggling to keep his nonchalance. She was stripped of all tact and politeness as she stood before him, but he was not. He would show her compassion, as her brother and friends did not, even if it really killed him.

"What the hell does that mean, Alex?" she said harshly. No longer defeated, she took her battle stance and held the staff with both hands before her. There was a murderous look in her eye and she had a half-snarl on her face.

She thought he was toying with her.

"Jenna, listen to me—"

"No, Alex, I'm done listening to you," she hissed. "You've mocked me and teased me ever since we've met, and I'm tired of it. And to think, I looked up to you? I actually thought you were incredible, so powerful and calm—everything I'm not. I admired you, Alex, and then you went and nearly killed us all, and for what? World domination? How _stupid_ are you?" she cried. "Even if you take over the world, even if you take all the people of Weyard into your clutches, you will never—_ever_—dominate us.

"You will never dominate _me_."

Hot, angry tears spilled down her face and she let out a hoarse sob, still in her position.

Alex had felt the tiny rips and tears earlier; he had sensed the fissures that spread over the curious thing that was his heart. But as she stood there, even more vulnerable and in pain than before, he felt the cold shell that was enveloping his heart crack and fall off, where it settled with a dull thud at the bottom of his soul.

And now his heart ached for her, wanting to hold her as she cried in anguish. He felt his own tears overcome his stolidity and his barriers. His own walls were crashing down, all because Felix had sent Jenna up to talk to him.

Damn that Felix.

"Jenna, you have to believe me," Alex said, his voice thick and unnatural-sounding, "I don't want to dominate you, I never did. You were much too important to me, my dear, and I would rather kill myself than see you in such pain. _Please_, Jenna, listen to me. I'm falling apart here."

Jenna looked up through her tears, most likely surprised to hear such vulnerability in Alex's words. But as she searched his face, both pairs of eyes equally full of hurt and fear, he could see the walls coming down again.

That was the moment when he felt every last trace of hope desert him.

"Fall apart, Alex. I hope there's nothing left of you," she said, her voice dull and lifeless.

Then she turned and went down the mountain.

Minutes later, she turned to see if he was in as much distress as she was. She hoped to see him on his knees, face in hands, crying for the first time in his life.

Instead she saw him plummet down the side of the mountain and into the dangerous, frigid waters below.

---v---v---v---v---v---

Alex's first inclination was to spy on Felix, to see just how miserable the dumbass was. He was probably in Vale, trying to rebuild his backwater little down.

Then he would have liked to see Garet, the oaf that always followed Isaac around.

Perhaps Mia was of use to someone.

Sheba and Ivan were irrelevant.

Piers… Now, that was an idea.

Alex concentrated on the idea of Piers and was met with an image of sunny Lemuria. He saw the strong and silent Adept in his little hut, packing for someplace. He noticed the sandals and light clothing—perhaps a summer vacation.

Then Alex noted the letter on Piers' nightstand.

_My friend,_

_It's been a long while since any of our powers have been needed. We've gone our separate ways after pledging to be friends for the rest of our lives, and now is the time to use that vow to bring us all back together. _

_I wish for you to come to Vale. I am already here, along with Mia, Isaac, and Garet. Sheba and Ivan are in Kalay tending to their academy, but they already confirmed with Isaac that they are coming. All that remain are you and Jenna._

_Your king wrote to me, telling me of your acceptance. I am glad to hear it—but now I must ask that you persuade Jenna to come with you. As you can probably assume, we all miss her very much. We know that the events that unfolded hit her the hardest, but it is time for her to be among family again. I know that you have had an interest in her—I am not quite sure how long—but I must say that she has shown an interest in you, as well. As her brother and only living relative I want you to know that should the two of you decide to start a relationship, I am happy for you. _

_All that aside, I hope to see you (and Jenna) at this reunion._

_Sincerely,_

_Felix_

Bastard.

Who did Felix think he was, exactly? Alex wasn't one to talk, really, but Felix was referring to Jenna like she was some poor baby that the rest of them had humored while she mourned, but now it was time for her to come home to people that "really cared about her."

Why wasn't Felix as broken up about his parents as Jenna was? Why didn't he hide like she did?

Where was she?

Alex disregarded Piers as unimportant, despite the thought of Piers and Jenna "_having interests in each other_", and instead thought of Jenna.

Unlike the rest of the group, Alex thought of Jenna and felt warmth. He could feel it all the way in his fingertips, where he was always unfailingly cold. Even though he was born in ice and brought up in ice, the gentle heat was more pleasant than any snowfall.

An image shimmered into sight, and he had trouble believing his mind's eye.

Jenna was in a kitchen, furiously kneading a mound of dough with an intense expression on her face. Alex could tell that she was becoming more and more frustrated as she pounded and massaged the pile of colorless dough.

A stout brown woman came in and said boisterously in a foreign accent, "Very good work, Jenna-_mou_, it's time for the oven."

The woman snatched the unbaked bread from Jenna, whose arms were white with flour, and wrestled it into a pan and shoved it into the over. It seemed like nothing the woman did was simple or effortless. She turned to Jenna and smeared her hand over Jenna's forehead, where a white streak once was.

"Jenna-mou, you're covered in dust," she exclaimed and tore Jenna's apron from her waist. "Go home and clean yourself; I will send my boy to get you when dinner is ready." To illustrate her point she bellowed into the empty dining room and a small boy appeared, smiling a toothless grin. He waved at Jenna, who smiled grimly back.

"Thank you, Mrs. Poccoui," Jenna replied. "I'll be back soon."

As Jenna walked home, hands in pockets, she nodded congenially at a few women her age and even waved to a group of passing fishermen. Just as she started walking toward one particular house, a group of children emerged from in between the two homes and confronted her.

"Missus Jenna, you got any stories for us today?" the leader asked, a big tall girl of no more than thirteen.

"Sorry, Ara, not today," Jenna said. "But if you happened to ask me about an Avimander, say, tomorrow afternoon after I finish at Mrs. Poccoui's house, I'm sure I could make something up." Then she smiled at the girl.

It was the first genuine smile Alex had ever seen on Jenna's face.

The girl lit up with a grin and laughed out loud. "Thank you so much, Missus! No one tells stories like you do!" she said happily before running off, her gang trailing behind her.

Jenna entered her home and prepared her bath.

Alex withdrew out of respect, although not before he blushed beet-red at the sight of Jenna's bare back. He began to focus all his energy into healing himself.

His time would come soon. All he had to do was wait.

He had a reunion to get to, after all.

---v---v---v---v---v---

I'm very very sorry, seeing as it's shorter than the previous two chapters. I know I'm going a little crazy with the whole Piers-and-Alex-observing-Jenna bit, so I promise you I'm going to stop (soon). Anyways, I always thought Alex had a thing for Jenna—who else did he call "my dear"?—so I think I might change the pairing to AlexJenna. I have many more ideas for them… ;)

Let me know if they characters are going a little AU, please?

~:Helena Heartbeat

[PLZ REVIEW!!!1!]


	4. Jenna, Deserving

Thank you, thank you, thank you for those that reviewed. I really love getting nice ones, and thankfully, everyone's was. I honestly appreciate it, guys—you're the best. I hope I don't disappoint in the future. :)

I want to clear things up. I have not finished _Golden Sun: The Lost Age_. I have come close, as I am at the Mars Lighthouse, but it's been months since I've really sat down and given it my all. I apologize if my details are off, but I did come across some spoilers and now I pretty much know how the story ends. I am using only some of those details, however, and my story is mostly independent from what actually happened in the game.

Furthermore, if you don't like the story, don't read it. Not to be a betch or anything.

On with the show.

---v---v---v---v---v---

It was a cold night. Champa was good at that, shifting from over 100 degrees in the middle of the day to nearly below zero at night. If they lived in a desert, it would have been normal—expected, even. But they didn't. They lived on the coast.

Jenna thought that over when she walked home after departing from Mrs. Poccoui's. She had two large bags filled with fruits and vegetables from the woman's own garden. The next morning Mrs. Poccoui would come over to Jenna's to show her how to make her own garden so she would stop filching from others'.

She turned the last corner and was on the final stretch to her house. She lived on a small cliff that overlooked the marketplace below, with a dirt path precariously situated along the very edge. She tried not to lose her balance by keeping her gaze on the ground and focusing on not spilling any food.

When she was in the clear and her house was only about a hundred feet away, she looked back up. Something caught her gaze, something that wasn't there before, and she strained her eyes trying to see what—or who—it was.

The person or thing was half in shadow and appeared to be facing away from her. Jenna was careful to step lightly and not on anything too—

Under her foot a small twig snapped. The figure twisted around, entirely too fast to be a normal human, and was now obviously zeroed in on her.

Jenna knew she looked like a deer in headlights, clearly devoid of any courage or special powers… exactly the effect she was going for. If the figure thought her to be a regular human, it wouldn't exert too much energy in running over to kill her.

Or so she hoped.

The thing began walking toward her, which was a small relief—it didn't run on four legs or crawl or slither. It was walking, quite calmly, in her general direction.

Jenna felt the panic creep over her. Her grip on the fruit and veggies loosened and she clutched them tighter, like a life vest. "Who-who are you?" she called out, the fear shaking her voice.

The figure did not respond. It only kept walking.

Fight or flight.

Jenna chose flight.

She dropped the bags to the ground and set off like a bolt in the other direction. She flew down the steps along the side of the cliff, too scared to have any real caution, and darted for the caves. If worst came to worst she could hide herself in one of the small caverns, behind a stack of crates or barrels. Or perhaps she could even hide in the Avimander's hole. Something told her the figure was a hell of a lot worse than any Avimander.

She tugged the heavy wooden door open and slammed it shut behind her. When it was latched and locked, she went down the nearest hallway and down the following stairwell and into a small storage room. She locked the door behind her and collapsed to the floor, only now falling apart.

Sobs began to issue forth and she clutched her arms around her chest. Nothing in her life had ever frightened her so completely, a fact she was loath to admit to herself. After all, she was fearsome, fearless Jenna. She would protect and serve her friends and family to the ends of the earth. Or, well, before she left.

She could take on any creature, be it Avimander or wyvern or scorpion. Jenna of Vale was a warrior.

And now she was crying in a storage room because she saw someone outside her house.

She wiped her eyes on her hand and said thickly, "Pathetic." It was all that needed to be said.

Her fire was gone. She was a half-assed Adept. She wasn't angry or sad anymore. She felt nothing that could be used to fuel her fire. She fled to Champa, a fishing village, because she couldn't stand up to her brother about their parents. The old Jenna would be angry with this new Jenna, this gray and tired Jenna. At age twenty she was already broken, her youth gone like a snuffed-out candle.

But to defend herself, just a little bit, there was something about that person that made her bones feel like ice. She couldn't see anything that identified the figure definitely, but she could feel it in her toes: she did not want to be alone with that person under any circumstances.

A new wave of self-pity washed over Jenna and she felt the tears come again. Funny that: being able to produce tears but not a flame big enough to light even a candle.

She wept into her knees that night.

She cried for herself, for her brother, for her parents. She cried for her cowardice, for Felix's uncharacteristic cruelty, for Isaac's uneasy kindness. Each bout of tears brought on more and she cried like she never had before. The old Jenna wouldn't allow herself to cry, not ever; all the new Jenna ever did was cry.

That thought made her cry more.

---v---v---v---v---v---

The next morning, she woke to the feeling of her back and legs in agony.

An hour later she staggered out of the storage room, her hair a mess and her clothes rumpled and still damp. Despite the strange looks of the sailors and fishermen retrieving their supplies from the various rooms, she left the caves and made it home.

The bags that she dropped were gone.

When she pushed the door in, it swung open easily. That meant Mrs. Poccoui was in the kitchen. She could smell something cooking, something extremely good. When she passed the doorway to the said kitchen, she was the large bags against the wall but no Mrs. Poccoui. She shrugged it off—she was probably using the facilities or at her own house.

Jenna trudged up the stairs and called out into the house just in case, "I'm home. Mrs. Poccoui?"

No answer.

She rubbed her eyes and noticed how tired and filthy she was. Yesterday's sweat was not a good scent on anyone.

Before she could ready her bath, someone knocked at her door. Jenna folded a towel over her arm and jaunted down the stairs to the front door. Upon opening it, she was confronted with Mrs. Poccoui.

"Ah, Jenna-_mou_, you are awake now?" the woman asked grumpily as she pushed past the girl. "You have visitor at inn. He ask for you last night, very late indeed."

"Is it Isaac?" Jenna asked. She wasn't sure how she felt about seeing him again so soon.

"No, dear, this man haf blue hair. Long. Pale eyes. Very strange. Very quiet."

Jenna frowned. Could it be Piers? That was the obvious answer, of course, considering—no. Don't even think his name.

"Will he be staying long?" she asked.

"No say," the older woman replied. "He just ask for Jenna and I tell him you leef here. He come by here last night, no? He said he saw you but you ran away. Why you do that?" The woman looked up at Jenna accusatorily, hands on her wide hips.

That made no sense. That figure scared the living crap out of her, but Piers never did. Sure, there was a side of him that he kept hidden from everyone, but Jenna always had a notion that he would never do anything to hurt any of them… least of all her. No, it had to be someone else, someone she didn't know.

Jenna brushed it off and smiled at her elder. "Thanks for making that dish, Mrs. Poccoui. It smells like heaven."

The tiny woman was confused. "I not been here since last week, Jenna-_mou_. I only just came to help you with garden, but that now must wait until visitor gone. Is only polite." She waved her hands in a shooing gesture. "Go, take bath and eat food. Look pretty for this stranger; he handsome man. Maybe he ask you for marriage!" Mrs. Poccoui let out a hoarse laugh and left abruptly, leaving Jenna thoroughly puzzled.

Someone had to have broken into her house, then. But if they broke in, why did they cook her food? Why not take something? She obviously had numerous rare artifacts and weapons that would go for thousands if sold to the right merchant. This made no sense whatsoever.

Jenna's feeling of unease grew as she took in the scent of whatever it was that was sitting in the kitchen. She stepped into the small room and examined the pottery—it looked foreign, definitely not of Champan descent—and the food inside, which was light brown and gelatinous in texture. She poked her finger in it and withdrew a taste.

Whatever it was, it was sweet and a little spicy. She had heard of a spice from far-off Kalay—cinnamon, she believed—and decided she enjoyed it. She pulled out a bowl and a spoon and served herself some more.

Jenna took her snack out to her front porch. She didn't know why, but the uneasiness began to dissipate. She was now convinced that the food was left by that mysterious stranger and yes, she even let herself be a little flattered that someone took the time to make her something and bring it to her home, whoever he was. Perhaps she would even wander over there now…

She finished her pudding and took the bowl inside. Before she left she took the liberty to change into something a bit prettier than her work shorts and top. Luckily, it was early morning and the sun wasn't quite so blistering and she could afford to wear something that actually looked nice without worrying about overheating.

When she left her house, she was wearing a skirt and sleeveless top. Her hair was still up, but artfully styled. She looked good, and she didn't know what possessed her to strive to be something so trite.

There were a quite a few paths to the tavern, and she chose to take the long scenic one along the cliff. Jenna allowed herself to stroll, which she would never be allowed to do three years ago. If one _strolled_ anywhere, the chances of being mauled or maimed rose drastically. Felix told her this once, and she never gave herself leave to stroll again.

This small act of defiance gave Jenna more pleasure than she thought it would. All her life she had looked up to her older brother: strong, handsome, powerful Felix. No one disagreed with him. He was the darling of Vale and when he went down with the flood the village reeled with his loss, and Jenna was never more depressed. Secretly, evilly, though, she was glad he was gone. Maybe then she would have a chance to grow and not be smothered by his love.

And look what good it did her.

Suddenly, Jenna didn't feel like strolling anymore. She felt ridiculous in her getup. She felt even more ridiculous when she realized that she was going to meet a perfect stranger who may or may not have made her something. For all she knew, he was some fat ugly old man who bought the dish on the journey from wherever he came from. Maybe he didn't even want to marry her. Maybe he just wanted to buy her house or appraise her artifacts. Maybe he was an assassin or a rapist or a salesman.

She really didn't want to find out, for fear of being proven an idiot.

Jenna pulled out the ties in her hair as she stood near the edge of the cliff, ready to put up her mane in its usual matronly bun. She smeared away the sticky makeup on her face and wiped her hands on her skirt, not caring if she left streaks on the fabric. Once her hair was up and her makeup was gone she felt safer, more secure. Needless to say, she felt worse, but at least she wasn't vulnerable anymore. That's what it really came down to.

"What a shame," someone said from behind her. "Your hair was always beautiful in my opinion."

"I don't care what you think," Jenna snapped. She didn't care who it was, either. It would have been the King of Lemuria or a drunk homeless man—it didn't matter. As long as she didn't turn around to look them in the eye, she was safe.

"I know. You never did, really. You think of me as dirt—you always have—and yet I've always loved you. In my eyes, my dear, you could do no wrong."

Jenna froze just as she opened her mouth to tell the person to go away. That endearment—the familiarity of it chilled her, as did the fear and the openness and the isolation. If he tried anything, she would be helpless. Her blood turned cold and sluggish and she almost forced herself to turn around, to face the manifestation of her pervading fear.

"No, Jenna, you need not confront me if you are not ready. But this in itself is a silly thought, don't you think? You thought yourself ready years ago, if I am correct. You believed you readied yourself to face the final test, but instead you collapsed into your own self-pity and sadness after it began. You blamed the death of your parents on your friends and ran away. Come now, Jenna. What happened to you?"

She had asked herself this question only the night before, but it was different coming from someone else. No, scratch that—it was different coming from _him_. He was always so separate and detached from everything, and yet it never occurred to her that that way he could see everything going on in their little group. He noted the transformation in her, in them all, but said nothing. In her eyes, he was her equal and maybe even her inferior.

"You stand there and berate me for my stupidity, but what of your own? You had so many chances to tell me, to _enlighten_ me, and yet you didn't. Instead you stood by and watched as I killed my parents, and now you laugh at me for doing what I did? If anyone is the fool, Alex, it's you! You say you love me, but you… you… you did nothing to protect me. You were constantly watching me hurt myself and my friends and you have the gall to say you love me? You know nothing about me!"

"I couldn't agree more," Alex said, still infuriatingly complacent. "That is why I am here now."

"What the hell do you even mean?" Jenna said angrily. "I don't want your help. I don't need you help."

"On the contrary, my dear," he replied, "you desperately need someone's help, and it's just so lucky I happened along."

"You should be dead."

"I am very much alive."

"You fell off a cliff."

"No, I was pushed. But we'll get to that later. In the meantime you and I are going to attend a reunion."

Jenna frowned, not quite processing what he just said. "What do you mean?" she asked slowly. "What reunion?"

"I received word of a reunion that your adorable brother is hosting," he said sarcastically. "I have plans to attend, and you are going to come with me."

"Why should I go with you?" Jenna almost laughed at the ridiculousness of his "offer." He was such an ass to her and her friends, and now she was suddenly enveloped in his plans and had no say in her choices? "You wanted to take over the world, Alex, so why the hell should I go anywhere with you? Actually, don't even answer that question. I'm saying no."

"Jenna, this is a once-in-a-lifetime offer. You have a chance at redemption, salvation, absolution, whatever you want to call it. It pains me to see you like this, and I want to help you."

"Alex, I don't give a damn. I don't want your form of salvation."

He began to sound exasperated, but Jenna still didn't turn around to face him. "You… you don't know what it's like."

"Excuse me?"

"You look so _miserable_," he said, struggling to get the words out. "It's very hard to see you like this, Jenna, so tired and sad. You used to be so happy and exuberant, and that attracted me to you. Your unfailing ability to see the good in people. I knew you never liked me, but it didn't stop me from wondering—if you and I had the chance, would you be able to see good in me? To see light where I can see only… emptiness?"

"I don't know what ever possessed you to see me in that way," she said shakily, his words stirring something deep inside her heart. "Sometimes it felt like I only ever saw destruction and hate, even inside myself and Felix and Isaac and the rest of them, and in the people we saw in the places we traveled. It felt like I could never escape it, almost as if it didn't matter where I went or who I met—I could never really outrun the evil that lives inside everyone."

She turned, forgetting her fury and finally gathering the courage to look him in the eye. "And yet when I saw you, I only saw how detached and separate you were. You were like an angel," she said, a ghost of a smile on her face. "I hoped to be like you."

Jenna looked up at Alex and saw him, really saw him for the first time in her life. He wasn't an angel anymore, or if he was, it was an angel of destruction. He had been so ready to take over the world and rule with an iron fist, and Jenna would never be able to forgive him for that, even with the evil and ignorance running rampant. He wasn't so disconnected anymore, either. He certainly wasn't dead. He had changed—for the better, she did not know.

He stood between two trees, his face compassionate and yet still guarded, like he knew she was going to shut herself in again. It was strange to see him with emotion in his face and to hear his feelings in his voice. Jenna realized that he was more like her now—albeit the old Jenna, not this new pathetic one.

Again she longed to be more like him. Somewhere deep inside she admitted to herself that she would always hope to be like him.

"I'll go with you to the reunion," Jenna said.

Alex smiled. "I'm glad."

Jenna had never seen Alex smile before. It was definitely a disarming experience.

It was also proof that people really _can_ change.

He reached out to her with his gloved hand and said, "Friends?"

Jenna looked at his hand momentarily before saying, "It's not possible. There's too much history. Too much bad history."

Alex shook his head. "I know I haven't said it outright, my dear, but I have forgiven you. I said you could do no wrong in my eyes and I meant it. I always will. I don't care what you look like or feel like or _are_ like—you are Jenna and always will be, and that's enough for me."

His hand was still outstretched.

"I don't deserve this," she said thickly, feeling her pathetic tears bubbling up. "After my cowardice, I don't deserve a second chance."

"I don't deserve you," he said simply. Before she could shake his hand, though, he was gone.

---v---v---v---v---v---

I am extremely sorry it took me the entire summer (and then some) to get this out, so no excuses. I just hope this chapter turned out okay for you guys. :)

I know, I know, I'm taking the AU-ness a bit too far… Alex should not smile in any universe. It's part of his overall sexiness. But I'm trying to illustrate the point that he has changed, which I'll elucidate on later… eventually… maybe.

Please review!

Helena Heartbeat, over and out!


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